


I saw thee in a vision of the night

by clavicular



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clavicular/pseuds/clavicular
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If I'm having relationship problems, I'm meant to be able to talk to you, right?" Scott tries. "I mean, you're my best friend. That's what best friends do."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I saw thee in a vision of the night

Scott sinks down at the end of Stiles' bed, rubbing his arm. He'd banged both elbows and a knee tumbling in through the window, and somehow managed to drop the window pane on himself while he was halfway through. It's been a while since anything like that's happened. Werewolf reflexes have done wonders for his grace, and he rarely injures himself sneaking into Stiles' room after midnight any more. So maybe he's distracted tonight, or maybe it's a sign, some profound message about the tipping point he and Stiles are reaching. Scott's not sure he wants to read into it.

Stiles is silent, regarding Scott from his desk. Scott has no idea where to begin.

"If I'm having relationship problems, I'm meant to be able to talk to you, right?" he tries. "I mean, you're my best friend. That's what best friends do."

Stiles stares. "I guess."

Encouraged despite the less-than-enthusiastic response, Scott gives Stiles a small smile. Stiles doesn't return it. He drums his fingers on the desk, and then drops his gaze like there's something he doesn't want Scott to see in his eyes. Scott hesitates.

"You _are_ my best friend. You know that, right? No matter what else happens, that's one thing I'm always sure of."

"God, Scott, of course," Stiles snaps. "Are you going to tell me about your latest girl drama or what?" 

Scott frowns. This isn't really going the way he hoped. 

"It's not really drama," he says. "It's just a tough situation. I think everyone's trying to do the best they can, but wires keep getting crossed, and I'm not sure how to fix it." He takes a breath, fidgeting a little. "And it's not about a girl."

Stiles goes still. 

"Is... is that okay?" Scott asks.

"Sure," Stiles says. He waves a hand airily, but he still won't look at Scott. "I know you're... whatever. I'd be a bit of a hypocrite if I had a problem with it." 

"Still," Scott says, but Stiles cuts him off. 

"Whatever, Scott. Tell me about your boy drama. Or... boy, right?" 

Scott nods. 

"So, what's the story? Do I know him?" 

The words are casual, but there's something vicious in Stiles' tone. Scott doesn't think he's trying to cut, he just doesn't care if he does. It makes Scott defensive. He wants to fortify his walls and raise the drawbridge, and that's so wrong. He should never want to keep Stiles out. 

"Yes, you know him," he says. "We've been friends for a while, actually. Things were great, and I thought maybe we were really heading towards something. I wasn't sure, but... anyway, then I went and made a huge mistake. Now it feels like he can barely look at me." 

Stiles snorts. "Doesn't sound like you." 

He spins the desk chair around, a full circle, coming to rest back where he started. Scott watches helplessly.

"So what did you do?" Stiles asks.

"I slept with him."

"And that was a mistake, was it?"

Scott grits his teeth. "I didn't think so at the time, but he's been avoiding me all week, so I guess it must have been." 

Stiles goes back to drumming his fingers on the desk. He puts on a mockingly thoughtful face.

"Avoiding you. Huh, weird. And you have no idea why?" 

"I wish I did. I wish he would just tell me. We used to be able to talk." 

Stiles shrugs. He gives a slight roll of his eyes, but Scott thinks it might not be wholly directed at him. 

"Look, he's probably just adjusting. It's a bit of a change in your relationship, and maybe not what he expected from it," he says. He smirks to himself, a trace of bitterness behind it. "I'm sure once he accepts that it was just a quick fuck and he's not worth anything more, things will be fine. He'll get over it and you guys can go back to being friends."

Scott stares at him. 

"That's not... I don't  _want_ to just get over it. Is that what you think?"

 Stiles purses his lips, and leaves his eyes fixed on the desk. His fingers keep tapping. 

 "That's why you've been avoiding me? God, Stiles. It wasn't just sex. Not for me. How can you believe that?"

 "You left," he says. 

 There's a painful twist to his lips, nails digging into the table now. Scott's chest tightens. The last time they were this close, Stiles' face had been smoothed out in sleep, his body warm and solid against Scott's. Scott's phone buzzed softly on the night stand, and Stiles' hand reflexively tightened around Scott's hip. Like he didn't even have to be conscious to try and hold Scott there. He'd still been asleep when Scott slid out from under the covers, but he'd chased Scott's body heat with a soft whine.

 "I'm sorry," Scott says. "Derek's loft got broken into. There was a fire, Stiles. He still doesn't know  who or why, but...  I had to go. I swear, I didn't want to."

 "So, what, you just  _went_?"

 "I didn't want to wake you! I left a message on your phone, though. Didn't you get it?"

 Stiles doesn't answer. His mouth thins out and he folds his arms defensively.

 "You deleted it," Scott says, slowly. "You were hurt and assumed the worst, and you didn't want to hear it."

 "What was I supposed to think?" 

"Maybe that I expected to have about a hundred more chances to wake up in your arms?"

Stiles' mouth snaps closed. He stares at Scott uncertainly, and Scott hates that look on his face, hates the fact that he put it there. He and Stiles are sure of each other, always, it's how they  _work._

"You're my best friend," he says, softly. "Don't you get that? I don't ever want to lose you. And even if all I felt for you was friendship, you could never have been... disposable? Interchangeable? Whatever it is you're thinking. You matter to me, Stiles, so much that I can't believe I even have to say it. I don't regret what we did, but if it hurt you then yes, it was a mistake, because hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do. Just tell me how to make this right. Please."

Stiles is silent for a long moment. 

"Even if?" he asks. 

Scott frowns, and Stiles leans forward in his chair. 

"Even if all you felt was friendship," he elaborates. "If that's not all, then what?" 

And Scott's horrified to find himself blushing. 

"Come on Stiles, you know the answer to that."

A slow, incredulous smirk spreads across Stiles' face. He stands up.

"No, Scotty, I don't think I do," he says.

Scott's blush deepens as Stiles prowls towards him.

"You're a smart guy, figure it out," he mutters.

"Oh no you don't, Scott. You're not getting out of this that easily." 

Scott shifts back, looking up at Stiles. 

"Well, how do you feel about me?"

Stiles pounces. They collide in a tangle of limbs, Stiles making to grab Scott and kiss him and straddle him all at once. Scott kisses back, tries to steady them, but he and Stiles are at a tipping point again and all of Scott's grace has deserted him. He's actually pretty okay with that. They're both laughing when his back hits the bed. 

 "I'm sorry," Stiles says. He reaches for Scott's left hand, and then his right, linking their fingers together over Scott's chest. 

 "Being pushed into bed by cute guys is a real hardship," Scott agrees, smiling.

 Stiles rolls his eyes, but his cheeks turn pink too.  

 "Smartass," he murmurs. "But no, I mean, I'm sorry for avoiding you." He leans forward, until their foreheads are almost brushing. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions and freaking out and not giving you the chance to explain. I should have known you better than that."

 It's hard to tell at this distance, but Scott thinks Stiles might be closing his eyes. Their hands are trapped between their chests now, and Stiles' grip is tight. Scott tilts his head back and presses a soft kiss to Stiles' lips. 

 "Hey. It's fine," he says. "We figured it out, didn't we?"

 Stiles straightens up then, looking down at Scott. 

 "Yeah, about that," he says. His tone turns playful again. "I think you still owe me a moving confession of your true feelings."

 Scott does his best to elbow Stiles in the ribs. 

 "Are you kidding? My impassioned plea for forgiveness doesn't count?"

 Stiles tugs Scott's hands above his head, smirking as he pins them there.

 "Nope," he says.

 Scott grins back. He pushes against Stiles' grip, testing, but not enough to break it. Just a little, enough to prove to himself that Stiles won't let go without a fight. Their fingers stay clasped together. 

 "I'll write you a sonnet later." 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (To Stiles' immense surprise, Scott actually does write him a sonnet. Fourteen lines in iambic pentameter and everything. It's irreverent as fuck and there's probably at least two lines dedicated to Stiles' cock, but the last lines are about how he can't even imagine who he'd be without Stiles, so Scott figures it balances out. Stiles frames it.)


End file.
